


“Cold enough for ya, Miss Pauling?”

by PreludeInZ



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Ice Skating, californians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-29
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-26 07:19:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3842008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PreludeInZ/pseuds/PreludeInZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a class="tumblr_blog" href="http://sinuswave.tumblr.com/post/112628013894/headcanon-pauling-never-learned-how-to-ice-skate">sinuswave</a>:</p><blockquote>
  <p>Headcanon: Pauling never learned how to ice-skate while Scout and his brothers were out on the frozen lakes in winter 24/7<br/><br/>I love Scout/Pauling so much uvu </p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	“Cold enough for ya, Miss Pauling?”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sinuswave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinuswave/gifts).



> the following contains a continuity error with regard to Miss Pauling’s probable age and the actual broadcast history of Olympic figure skating. With that said, if anyone wants to fight me about this, make it pistols at dawn.

When she’d said she liked ice skating, she’d mostly meant the  _idea_  of ice skating. Once or twice growing up, she’d twirled along in her parent’s living room to the figure skaters on the TV, and dreamt of the day when she would be an Olympic class figure skater herself. This dream had not actually materialized, given that she had grown up in Southern California, with a noticeable absence of idyllic, wintry ponds on which she could hone her skills in the fantasized about sparkly unitard, with the rhinestones and the delicate silk skirt and the lilting strains of Swan Lake in the background. 

So she was a world-class personal assistant instead, though she had made the mistake of mentioning ice-skating within Scout’s hearing, and then made the mistake of getting stuck at Coldfront after a particularly vicious blizzard had stopped up the roads and stranded her along with the team. And Scout had knocked on her door, bright and early once the snow had stopped, with two old pairs of ice skates and an enormous grin. And, well, it was better than being cooped up inside the base, with nothing to read but outdated gun catalogues, no one to talk to but the mercs (who were lovely and she adored them, but when they were bored there tended to be  _antics_ , and Miss Pauling was not technically supposed to  _allow_ indoor sledding). And all her paperwork done. So it wasn’t like she had anything better to do.

Or, anyway, that was what she’d told herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that Scout was cute and fun and funny and that his hat was adorable. And skating couldn’t really be  _that_ hard.

This had turned out to be the worst sort of hubris, because actually attempting to navigate a dubiously frozen pond in the dead of winter with what were functionally knives strapped to her feet seemed like a really, really awful idea. 

Especially since the only things available to hold onto were a low-hanging tree bough, which creaked audibly in the cold, and Scout, who was grinning at her, red-cheeked, behatted, and scarved. And holding a hand out, patiently, like he had been for the ten minutes since she’d been coaxed onto the ice.

He’d at least had the decency not to comment that he’d thought she could skate.  _Especially_ in light of the revelation that he could really, _really_  skate. Backwards, even. And  _fast_. He’d done a few leisurely laps of the pond, making sure it was properly solid, jumping up and down on spots he thought might look weak. She’d laced up her skates, then he’d come rocketing over and braked, stopping with a flurry of ice chips from the blades of his skates that made her shriek. “Cold enough for ya, Miss Pauling?” Scout wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve and dropped into a crouch in front of the fallen log where she was sitting. “Here, lemme.”

Taking hold of the blade of her skate, he caught her foot between his knees to steady it, and expertly laced and tightened the boot. Then the other one. She pretended her cheeks were flushed from the cold and not from noticing the way there were snowflakes clinging in his eyelashes. “Thanks. Um. Those are sure on there.”

“Yeah, gotta be tight or you’ll wobble all over the place. C’mon.”

And that had been ten minutes ago, when Miss Pauling had pushed herself up, thinking it couldn’t possibly be as difficult as she thought it was, and found out that it was, in fact, worse. Lots worse. She had no idea how she managed to make it an entire ten feet to the tree she clung to now without falling and breaking her tailbone, or somehow managing to slice off her own fingers. But this was as far as she’d gotten, and given that her average number of falls per foot of distance was none, she’d decided that it was probably a good enough try for a beginner.

Scout had also been decent enough not to laugh at what she was sure had been an incredibly embarrassing trip from log to tree branch. The branch, which was still creaking in protest at having to bear even her (she thought) relatively minimal hundred and twenty pounds, would have been too high for her to reach if she hadn’t been wearing the skates, and she was fairly certain that she was going to be here until the pond thawed out. Southern California. At least she could swim.

“So,” he said finally. “Bit out of practice?”

“I’m from California,” she admitted, as though that explained it. Apparently it did, because this out of everything was what made him laugh.

“Aw, no kiddin’? I never knew that. Here I had you pegged for somewhere in New England. Guess that’s just wishful thinkin’, though. Well, it ain’t hard. C’mon, I won’t let you fall.”

Miss Pauling eyed his skates dubiously and then his proffered hand. “I don’t know how  _you’re_ staying upright. I’ll pull you down and you’ll slice my face up.”

“Nah, wouldn’t. I’m rock solid on skates, Miss Pauling, was a center forward for years an’ years back home. That’s hockey, ‘case you ain’t familiar on accounta bein’ Californian. It ain’t so hard, Miss Pauling, honest. Probably ain’t any harder than walking in high heels or that kinda thing. Girls’ve got good balance.”

“Have you ever  _seen_  me in heels?” she retorted, then felt her cheeks flush beneath the chill of the cold. “No, you know, thanks all the same, but I think I’ll just stay here ‘til spring.”

He was still grinning, but he reached out and put a steadying hand on her elbow. “Well, only reason I say is that I think that branch is cracking, an’ when it gives you’ll fall an’ break your ass. An’ while I sure wouldn’t mind carrying you heroically back to Medic, I busted my tailbone before an’ it hurts like the devil. So, you know, at least lemme catch you.”

Cue another warning creak, and Miss Pauling whimpered and let go.

And, miraculously, didn’t fall. Her feet slid a little and she gasped, but Scout had her by the elbow, and had a hand on her waist, and actually, maybe this wasn’t so hard. She even managed to look up and grin back at him.

"See?” And gently, brushing a strand of hair from where it had caught on her glasses. “Now, first thing, y’gotta unlock—well,  _you_ gotta unlock just about every joint in your body, Miss Pauling, but we’ll start with your knees…yeah! Good, now bend ‘em just a bit—”

She  _definitely_ hadn’t had anything better to do.


End file.
